Alcuin

[willysilver]

Willy had found a shitty bar with a stage and had gotten himself a Firday night gig. It was just him, a mic, a stool, and a bottle of water. No lighting, no show. Just a giant with a guitar.

Nyx had convinced him he could find his own music. He'd taken that to heart and had begun to write. He may not have Nyx's music, but he found the nymph was still his muse as every song was about him. Love, pain, sorrow, violence, he had an entire setlist.

"Believe it or not, this is a love song," he told the few people in the bar, most not paying attention, though they couldn't help but feel the music seeping into their blood.

Her eyes and words are so icy
Oh but she burns
Like rum on a fire
Hot and fast and angry
As she can be
I walk my days on a wire

It looks ugly, but it's clean
Oh mamma, don't fuss over me

The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist would be fine
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

Calls of guilty thrown at me
All while she stains
The sheets of some other
Thrown at me so powerfully
Just like she throws with the arm of her brother

But I want it, it's a crime
That she's not around most of the time

Way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist would be fine
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

Her fight and fury is fiery
Oh but she loves
Like sleep to the freezing
Sweet and right and merciful
I'm all but washed
In the tide of her breathing

And it's worth it, it's divine
I have this some of the time

Way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist would be fine
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

One person clapped. Three were weeping.

Willy smiled and took a sip of water before finishing his set and stepping off the stage to get an actual drink.

Comments

[willysilver]

"Who are your parents, pet?" Willy asked gently.

[alcuin]

"I don't know," Alcuin said after a brief hesitation, and didn't quite meet his eyes. "I don't remember anything from before I was sixteen. Probably um... I mean, a psychiatrist told me it was probably some extreme traumatic event."

[willysilver]

"Would you like to know?" Willy asked.

It sounded less like curiosity and more like an offer.

[alcuin]

"Would I like to know... about my family?"

Alcuin blinked at him, surprised. Looked around, as if maybe he was being pranked. And then said, "Of course."

[willysilver]

"What is the knowledge worth?" he asked. "Not a thing I would gift to anyone, you see. A Deal?"

[alcuin]

Alcuin did know some things about fae.

He hesitated. "I'm not sure. What would you want?"

[willysilver]

Your own song

Nyx could be a curse.

Willy studied him.

"I don't even know what you have to offer. I will always refuse children. Keep them," he said with a note of disgust.

[alcuin]

"I don't have any children," Alcuin assured him.

"I honestly don't know what one offers in a fae deal," he said. "Bake you a pie? Write you a poem? Give you head?"

[willysilver]

Willy's eyes widened as an idea struck.

"Write me poem," he said with a nod. "And give me the rights to produce."

[alcuin]

"... produce? Like turn it into song lyrics?"

The truth was, Alcuin did write poetry sometimes. But he was convinced it wasn't very good.

[willysilver]

"Yes," he nodded sharply.

"I'll tell you what truth I can in exchange for poetry, and the rights, to do with as I please," he said. "And I can tell you before, or after, the poem. Whichever you prefer."

[alcuin]

"I'd like to ask for something else, too," Alcuin said after a moment. "I want to find out if I can use magic. Could you help me?"

[willysilver]

"I can introduce you around," he agreed.

"Is that the Deal? Your history and an introduction for a poem and the rights?"

He felt it fair.

Willy offered his hand.

[alcuin]

Alcuin hesitated visibly. He'd been warned about fae deals, of course, but still... this seemed rather innocuous. And what harm would it do to write some song lyrics for him?

He shook his hand. "Deal."

[willysilver]

Willy took hold of his hand to shake and seal the deal, then caught it with the other and held on. Warmth moved through Alcuin's blood, then withdrew rapidly.

"Dilute. A grandfather, probably, was fae. Probably a nymph. The most beautiful mortals have nymph blood. You'll likely never know, though. Your memory was stolen with magic. Powerful magic," he said, his voice ominously dark and quiet.

He let go abruptly.

"Bitter magic."

[alcuin]

The first part Alcuin did not find shocking, but the second...

"My memory was taken from me?" He'd never even considered this possibility. But it... made sense.

[willysilver]

"Yes," he nodded sympathetically. "With almost surgical precision. Most memory spells leave tattered edges. Your past is simply gone."

[alcuin]

Alcuin still looked a bit stunned. "Is it fae magic? That could do that?"

[willysilver]

"No, this is the wizardry of men. No fae would do...that," he answered with a note of distaste.

[alcuin]

"I see," said Alcuin, looking troubled. "I - I might need another drink."